


Choices

by flowersheep



Series: Mob AU [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 23:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: Fishlegs may have gotten himself a little in over his head when he agreed to go undercover to investigate the Hooligan Syndicate.





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> was watching Archer season 8 one day and of course my brain thought "what if you stick the how to train your dragon characters in a mob AU?" and so here we are

Fishlegs woke up with a pounding head. He groaned and tried to move, which was when he realized that his hands were tied behind his back. The last thing he remembered was snooping around in someone's office before... Damn it. He must've been caught.

"Well, well, look who's awake."

There wasn't much light to see by in the room. At first, all Fishlegs could make out was a short, stocky shape, but the voice had been familiar. It wasn't surprising when Snotlout Jorgenson stepped into the dim light. Unlike before, when he'd had that arrogant smirk on his face as he tried to impress his newest friend, now Snotlout was glaring him down.

"What's going-" Fishlegs was interrupted by a fist slamming into his face.

"Shut the fuck up you god damn asshole!" Snotlout snarled. He punched Fishlegs a second time. He pulled his fist back for a third punch.

"That's enough, Snotlout." The voice came from somewhere off to Fishlegs' left and it was familiar, though he couldn't place it. "Why don't you go back downstairs."

Snotlout frowned, staring at the unknown figure. "But-"

"Beat it, Jorgenson."

Grumbling, Snotlout did as told. Fishlegs tried to keep himself calm. According to what little information he'd been given on the Hooligan Syndicate, Snotlout was a high ranking member, closely related to the Haddocks. Whoever else was in the room apparently outranked him.

"Um," Fishlegs began, gathering every ounce of courage he possessed. "I think there's been a mistake. I'm just-"

"Oh, there's been no mistake, Mr. Ingerman," the stranger said. A shadow, tall and thin, crossed to the barely visible shape of a desk and turned on a lamp. "That's better. Now, let's have a little chat." It was the man from last night, the patron he'd sat by at the bar.

"You," Fishlegs managed to get out. "Who-"

"Ah, yes, how rude of me," the man said. "I should introduce myself. I'm Hiccup Haddock. You've no doubt heard of my father, Stoick."

Great. He hadn't managed to get caught by just any member of the Hooligans, no. Fishlegs had gone and gotten himself caught by the Hooligan leader's son. He cleared his throat, reaching for his composure. "I'm-"

"I'm perfectly aware of who you are, Mr. Ingerman," Hiccup said. "Or would you prefer I address you as detective?" He was dead, he was so dead. Hiccup leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. "It's a shame, really. I like you, Detective Ingerman. You seem like a decent man, something that's so hard to find in New York these days. Unfortunately, I can't have you snooping around our business. That leaves me with quite the dilemma, detective. I don't want to kill you, but you've put me in a position where I have very little choice."

"Very little choice is still some choice," Fishlegs pointed out. "Look-" But Hiccup waved a hand for quiet and Fishlegs found himself shutting up.

"I'm not sure what you were about to say, but I assume it was some sort of offer to turn on my father in exchange for getting out of prison a little early. Aside from the fact that I'm not interested in betraying Dad, why would I cut a deal with you for a shorter prison sentence when I can just kill you and avoid going to prison at all?"

"That's... a very good point," Fishlegs admitted.

"You are right, though."

"I am?"

"Very little choice is still some choice." Hiccup flicked a bit of lint off his shoulder. "Now, I should tell you that there were a few objections to this idea. There are those who think I should just kill you, toss you in the nearest body of water, and be done with it. However, as I said, I like you and I think killing you would just be such a waste. So I would like to offer you the opportunity to work for me."

A burst of hot anger boosted Fishlegs' courage. "I'm no dirty cop!" he snapped. He wasn't sure what he expected to follow his outburst, but it wasn't Hiccup throwing his head back and laughing. There was an amused snort from somewhere behind him, alerting Fishlegs to the fact that there was at least one other person in the room.

"You came to the wrong city, Detective Ingerman," Hiccup said. "Honest cops are few and far between. I admire your desire to do good in the world, I really do, but you won't do it solving crimes." The amusement faded. "Well, I suppose that's your answer. Pity. I was hoping we could come to an understanding." Fishlegs remained stubbornly silent. "Ah well. I tried. Now, normally, I'm all for getting this sort of thing over with as quickly as possible. No use in dragging out the suspense, right? However, would you mind terribly if we waited until after Astrid is finished performing?" Behind him, Fishlegs heard a piano start up. "I do hate to miss her performances."

Before Fishlegs had a chance to answer, hands appeared on either side of the chair he was tied to, dragging it backwards and spinning it around so that he was facing a large window overlooking the stage. Astrid stood in front of the mike. Tonight, she was wearing a beautiful gold dress. Fishlegs only realized he was staring when Hiccup stepped up beside him. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut, remembering what the twins had said about Astrid being Hiccup's girl. Although, it wasn't like he could get in anymore trouble. He was already going to be murdered.

The song was beautiful, if melancholy. If he closed his eyes, Fishlegs could almost imagine he was just another patron in the crowd, there for drinks and entertainment. The ropes binding his hands made it hard to complete the illusion though. He shifted a bit, trying to glance surreptitiously around and get a handle on what exactly he was dealing with. To his right was Hiccup, enraptured by the performance, expression so soft and tender as he watched Astrid sing that Fishles couldn’t even imagine him killing someone. To his left he could just make out a large, well dressed shape, but whoever it was remained too much in the shadows to be identified. Behind him, just under the sound of the music, Fishlegs could hear a third person pacing back and forth, like a lion stalking its prey.

A bead of sweat dripped down his face. Was this really how he wanted to die? Tossed in the Hudson or maybe dumped into a woodchipper or however it was Hiccup Haddock preferred to get rid of corpses. He would never see his parents again, or his brother, or his sister, or his nieces and nephews. They would never know what happened to him. Plus, a small part of him pointed out, working for the Hooligan’s second in command might be an even better way to infiltrate them. It grated on his sense of honor and duty, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options here and the longer Astrid’s performance went on the more the fear built. He didn’t want to die.

“Apologies for the delay,” Hiccup said once the performance was done. “We’ll get going now. I’m thinking one of the warehouses on the river. No cops to get in our way, no carpet to clean blood out of, and a convenient place to dump your body when we’re done.” A heavy hand landed on Fishlegs’ shoulder.

“Wait!” Fishlegs blurted. Hiccup turned to him with raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

“Yes?”

Fishlegs swallowed, not quite able to believe he was really about to do this. “I’ve… I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll- I’ll work for you.” It was hard to force the words out. A smile slowly stretched across Hiccup’s face.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to reconsider, Detective Ingerman,” he said. There was something smug about his tone and his stance that gave Fishlegs the suspicious feeling that, as much as Hiccup genuinely loved watching Astrid’s performances, it wasn’t why they’d stayed to watch. It gave him serious second thoughts. Hiccup Haddock was not a man to be trifled with. At a nod, the ropes binding Fishlegs’ hands were cut. He massaged his wrists as he cautiously stood.

“Welcome to the family, Detective Ingerman,” Hiccup said, holding a hand out. Fishlegs stared at it for a long moment before taking it, feeling like he was selling his soul to the devil.


End file.
